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Birthday poem: “Son of a Gun”

When I was young, my verse was true
My derringer shot derring-do
I livened up the “I love you”
And so I wed at .22

Time passed, my love made bold to state
“You’re like a slug that’s put on weight
But there’s still hope you will be great
Despite your age of .38”

Now when I talk of love – amor
I hear my love begin to snore
I have become a larger bore
Here at the gauge of .44

Comments

  1. Pat Dalroy says:

    I’ve never laughed so hard at a poem. Well done sir.

  2. I’m submitting this to Scott Walker for consideration as the official State Song of Wisconsin.

    (To be sung to the tune of “Happiness Is a Warm Gun,” of course!)

    HI-Larious!

    I’m sorry if your head hurts, though.

  3. Joshua Hren says:

    At .45, at the end of the day,
    I pray this veritable Colt
    will say and will see he’s not such a dolt
    if even .12 readers get holt
    of his Augustine’s Member
    To be published the Fifth of November

    Remember, remember that this is our plot
    and don’t let the manuscript’s drive go to rot
    Lest at extreme unction instead of sweet mots
    you hear from the priest “O God please save this sot”!
    progeny

    • Broderick Barker says:

      It’s like the bishop said: “The comments are where it gets interesting.” Kudos for the use of “holt” and the Catholic conspiracy reference, and the boozy warning.

  4. Louise Orrock says:

    It’s a sin not to give information.

  5. Sinatra sang once
    (not his best album)
    of wanting to sing
    til he should die,
    not knowing why,
    really,
    beyond confessing
    that it seemed truer to sing
    than to say a lie,
    to sing, that is, til he should die.
    He was a salooner who didn’t know why
    better than most thinkers
    who try best not to lie.
    It’s what they do beyond the sky,
    those souls that live beyond where they lie,
    and singers hear the silent cry
    that thinkers can only think
    comes from that place where poets lie.
    And, well, it’s what they do beyond the sky,
    in that well lit place beyond the cry,
    find the right word to sing,
    that is to say,
    they name the One beyond the why,
    way over there beyond the sky,
    that word that rises as dead it lies.
    df

    • Lickona says:

      File under: if I had one wish, it would be for Christianity to be true. Thanks for this, df. I love “He was a salooner who didn’t know why better than most thinkers…” A cloud of unknowing twist on “he knew better.”

    • Lickona says:

      File under: What IS Sinatra’s best album?

  6. Big Jon Bully says:

    I think that was a good one.

  7. A poem so good that it makes me rethink my support of gun control.

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